WHEN spring returned, and
I took in the little patch of green the aperture commanded, I asked myself
how many more summers and winters I must be condemned to spend thus. I
longed to draw in a plentiful draught of fresh air, to stretch my cramped
limbs, to have room to stand erect, to feel the earth under my feet again.
My relatives were constantly on the lookout for a chance of escape; but
none offered that seemed practicable, and even tolerably safe. The hot
summer came again, and made the turpentine drop from the thin roof over
my head.

During the long nights I was restless for want of air, and I had
no room to toss and turn. There was but one compensation; the atmosphere
was so stifled that even mosquitos would not condescend to buzz in it.
With all my detestation of Dr. Flint, I could hardly wish him a worse punishment,
either in this world or that which is to come, than to suffer what I suffered
in one single summer. Yet the laws allowed him to be out in the free air,
while I, guiltless of crime, was pent up here, as the only means of avoiding
the cruelties the laws allowed him to inflict upon me! I don't know what
kept life within me. Again and again, I thought I should die before long;
but I saw the leaves of another autumn whirl through the air, and felt
the touch of another winter. In summer the most terrible thunder storms
were acceptable, for the rain came through the roof, and I rolled up my
bed that it might cool the hot boards under it. Later in the season, storms
sometimes wet my clothes through and through, and that was not comfortable
when the air grew chilly. Moderate storms I could keep out by filling the
chinks with oakum.

But uncomfortable as my situation was, I had glimpses of things out
of doors, which made me thankful for my wretched hiding-place. One day
I saw a slave pass our gate, muttering, "It's his own, and he can kill
it if he will." My grandmother told me that woman's history. Her mistress
had that day seen her baby for the first time, and in the lineaments
of its fair face she saw a likeness to her husband. She turned the
bondwoman and her child out of doors, and forbade her ever to return. The
slave went to her master, and told him what had happened. He promised to
talk with her mistress, and make it all right. The next day she and her
baby were sold to a Georgia trader.

Another time I saw a woman rush wildly by, pursued by two men. She
was a slave, the wet nurse of her mistress's children. For some trifling
offence her mistress ordered her to be stripped and whipped. To escape
the degradation and the torture,
she rushed to the river, jumped in, and ended her wrongs in death.

Senator Brown, of Mississippi, could not be ignorant of many such
facts as these, for they are of frequent occurrence in every Southern State.
Yet he stood up in the Congress of the United States, and declared that
slavery was "a great moral, social, and political blessing; a blessing
to the master, and a blessing to the slave!"

I suffered much more during the second winter than I did during the
first. My limbs were benumbed by inaction,
and the cold filled them with cramp. I had a very painful sensation of
coldness in my head; even my face and tongue stiffened, and I lost the
power of speech. Of course it was impossible, under the circumstances,
to summon any physician. My brother William came and did all he could for
me. Uncle Phillip also watched tenderly over me; and poor grandmother crept
up and down to inquire whether there were any signs of returning life.
I was restored to consciousness by the dashing of cold water in my face,
and found myself leaning against my brother's arm, while he bent over me
with streaming eyes. He afterwards told me he thought I was dying, for
I had been in an unconscious state sixteen hours. I next became delirious,
and was in great danger of betraying myself and my friends. To prevent
this, they stupefied me with drugs. I
remained in bed six weeks, weary in body and sick at heart. How to get
medical advice was the question. William finally went to a Thompsonian
doctor, and described himself as having all my pains and aches. He returned
with herbs, roots, and ointment. He was especially charged to rub on the
ointment by a fire; but how could a fire be made in my little den? Charcoal
in a furnace was tried, but there was no outlet for the gas, and it nearly
cost me my life. Afterwards coals, already kindled, were brought up in
an iron pan, and placed on bricks. I was so weak, and it was so long since
I had enjoyed the warmth of a fire, that those few coals actually made
me weep. I think the medicines did me some good; but my recovery was very
slow. Dark thoughts passed through my mind as I lay there day after day.
I tried to be thankful for my little cell, dismal as it was, and even to
love it, as part of the price I had paid for the redemption of my children.
Sometimes I thought God was a compassionate Father, who would forgive my
sins for the sake of my sufferings. At other times, it seemed to me there
was no justice or mercy in the divine government. I asked why the curse
of slavery was permitted to exist, and why I had been so persecuted and
wronged from youth upward. These things took the shape of mystery, which
is to this day not so clear to my soul as I trust it will be hereafter.

In the midst of my illness, grandmother broke down under the weight
and anxiety and toil. The idea of losing her, who had always been my best
friend and a mother to my children, was the sorest trial I had yet had.
O, how earnestly I prayed that she might recover! How hard it seemed, that
I could not tend upon her, who had so long and so tenderly watched over
me!

One day the screams of a child nerved me with strength to crawl to
my peeping-hole, and I saw my son covered with blood. A fierce dog, usually
kept chained, had seized and bitten him. A doctor was sent for, and I heard
the groans and screams of my child while the wounds were being sewed up.
O, what torture to a mother's heart, to listen to this and be unable to
go to him!

But childhood is like a day in spring, alternately shower and sunshine.
Before night Benny was bright and lively, threatening the destruction of
the dog; and great was his delight when the doctor told him the next day
that the dog had bitten another boy and been shot. Benny recovered from
his wounds; but it was long before he could walk.

When my grandmother's illness became known, many ladies, who were
her customers, called to bring her some little comforts, and to inquire
whether she had every thing she wanted. Aunt Nancy one night asked permission
to watch with her sick mother, and Mrs. Flint replied, "I don't see any
need of your going. I can't spare you." But when she found other ladies
in the neighborhood were so attentive, not wishing to be outdone in Christian
charity, she also sallied forth, in magnificent
condescension, and stood by the
bedside of her who had loved her in her infancy, and who had been repaid
by such grievous wrongs. She seemed surprised to find her so ill, and scolded
uncle Phillip for not sending for Dr. Flint. She herself sent for him immediately,
and he came. Secure as I was in my retreat, I should have been terrified
if I had known he was so near me. He pronounced my grandmother in a very
critical situation, and said if her attending physician wished it, he would
visit her. Nobody wished to have him coming to the house at all hours,
and we were not disposed to give him a chance to make out a long bill.

As Mrs. Flint went out, Sally told her the reason Benny was lame
was, that a dog had bitten him. "I'm glad of it," replied she. "I wish
he had killed him. It would be good news to send to his mother. Her day
will come. The dogs will grab her yet." With these Christian words she
and her husband departed, and, to my great satisfaction, returned no more.

I heard from uncle Phillip, with feelings of unspeakable joy and
gratitude, that the crisis was passed and grandmother would live. I could
now say from my heart, "God is merciful. He has spared me the anguish of
feeling that I caused her death."